


Shopping Trip

by bobbiewickham



Series: Les Drabbles [4]
Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:29:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23389558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbiewickham/pseuds/bobbiewickham
Summary: Joly tries on leather pants and feels unsure of the effect he would make.
Series: Les Drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677259
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Shopping Trip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PilferingApples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PilferingApples/gifts).



> Written for a prompt for Joly, Bahorel, and one character playing with the other's hair.

Joly stood before the mirror, examining his leather trousers with mixed glee and doubt.

They were certainly very tight. They outlined…well. Everything. Musichetta would be pleased, surely. 

Or else she wouldn’t, because she would see so clearly what he was lacking. There should be more in the posterior region, surely–the ideal man shouldn’t be so pitifully thin. As for the anterior, well, that was more promising, but…

“She’s seen you naked,” Bahorel called out from the couch. “At least, I hope she has.”

“You’re the one who told me to get these trousers!”

“Yes,” Bahorel said, with a deep sigh. “For _style_. Not as a revelation of any facts Mlle Musichetta is not in possession of.”

Joly gave up worrying about his trousers, on the ground that his coat would cover much of them for good or ill anyway, and fussed instead with his hair. He parted it this way first, and then that, and then brushed it straight back, and finally settled on the first way. He gave his cravat one last tweak, pulled on his coat, and turned to Bahorel. “Wish me luck.”

Bahorel’s jaw dropped with exaggerated shock. “You’ll need more than luck to get anywhere with your hair like _that_.”

Joly frowned. “What do you mean?”

Shaking his head, Bahorel pulled himself up from the couch, and stomped over to Joly, grumbling under his breath. “How do you not understand this? Here, stand still.” Bahorel carefully parted Joly’s hair, and then brushed some of the side strands so they fell forward, in a way Joly would not have thought to do. 

Joly looked at his reflection dubiously. “Are you sure?”

“You’re a handsome boy, and handsomer still when you listen to me,” Bahorel said, grinning. “Now go do your wooing, my dear.”


End file.
